


Loss and Comfort

by hybryd0



Series: Sex and Feelings [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, still implied polyship baby pens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybryd0/pseuds/hybryd0
Summary: They tell themselves it's only one loss.





	Loss and Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> In reality they probably didn't take the loss this hard, but it's perfect for a little h/c fluff.

Losing sucks. Losing 5-1 sucks even worse and they’re all feeling the sting of it. Sure some of the veterans are trying to say “it’s only one game guys, we’ll do better” but that’s hard to accept right now. Especially when it doesn’t feel like they played badly, they just didn’t have the puck luck, didn’t get the lucky bounces that the Preds did.

And Conor never wants to see another catfish again in his life even though they’ve got another game here in the Predators’ barn and he has no doubt there’ll be at least one fish on the ice.

It’s a quiet and reserved team that heads back to the hotel. He’s sure most of the guys are probably reflecting on the game, wondering where it went wrong and what they could have done differently. Conor isn’t doing that though. He’s thinking about the bed waiting for him and how much he just wants to sink into it. He’ll dissect the game tomorrow along with everyone else during practice.

At the hotel he heads straight to his room and it’s only as he’s swiping his keycard that he feels the presence at his back. Glancing over his shoulder he finds Rusty standing there. He looks as tired as Conor feels, wearing the disappointment of loss like a cloak he hasn’t figured out how the shed yet.

Conor opens the door a crack so that it won’t lock again and then turns to face Rusty. “Not tonight man.”

“I’m not--this isn’t--I don’t--”

Rusty cuts himself off with a frustrated noise. Conor can tell it’s not his stutter tripping him up, only his lack of words for what he wants to say. It’s so rare for him, for his mind to fail him instead of his throat.

But he’s said enough with his halting words for Conor to get it. It’s what makes things with Rusty so easy.

And they don’t usually do this. They don’t usually come to each other for anything other than sex so of course it’s harder for Rusty to find the words for this. Conor’s not entirely sure he’d be any different if he’d been the one following Rusty instead.

Conor opens the door wider and motions Rusty inside. His friend flashes him a small, but warm smile as he takes the invitation. He can see the relief at not being turned away that Rusty doesn’t want to show in the way his shoulders relax, in the way he breathes a little easier. He wonders when he started being able to read Rusty like an open book even when he’s trying not to be one. He wonders if any of their other guys would have picked up on it.

Some part of him likes to think not.

They don't say anything to each other. He's not sure if there are really any words anyway. They've gotten all the pep talk they need from the vets.

They strip down to their boxers and then brush their teeth side by side in the bathroom with Rusty using the hotel provided one. It feels nice doing something so simple, so quietly intimate together.

He doesn’t let himself think that he could get used to this. Rusty isn’t his to want. He doesn’t have any right to take him away from the other boys.

Conor turns off the main light and crawls into bed where Rusty is already laying on his side waiting. Rusty draws him in immediately and they kiss, soft and sweet. There’s no intention behind it, neither of them looking to start anything; Conor’s not even sure he could get it up if wanted to anyway. This is just comforting each other.

Rusty breaks the kiss, but presses their foreheads together. Conor let’s out a shaky breath, the feeling in his chest feeling too big and warm to contain. He thinks he can feel it echoed in the way Rusty reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers over Conor’s cheek. It’s softer than they’ve ever been with each other.

It’s too much.

“It’s only one loss,” Conor murmurs, the same mantra they’ve been saying all playoffs long.

“Yeah,” Rusty agrees.

But here tonight, this close to getting what they want, that one loss feels too big. They’ll get over it in the morning. They’ll go into practice with the same gritty determination they’ve had all playoffs, all season, long.

Tonight though, tonight they’ve got this.

Rusty blinks sleepily at him and then tucks and curls himself into Conor’s arms. He fits his head under Conor’s chin and breathes wet and warm against his neck, but Conor just wraps his arms around Rusty just that little bit tighter, pulls him in just that little bit more. Rusty throws his arm over Conor’s hip and holds on, fingers caressing the skin at the small of his back.

He wishes it wasn’t a loss that got them here.

He hopes a win can get them here too.

“Shhh, sleep time,” Rusty mumbles, lips and beard moving against Conor’s throat.

Yeah, okay. Conor thinks and closes his eyes.


End file.
